The Lost - J. D. Robb [107]
When it became clear that using most of the hymns I chose would not be possible, I wrote my own words with the exception of the use of one line of the hymn “Be Not Afraid,” with permission of OCP, and words from the hymn “Hosea,” which are from the Bible and therefore not subject to copyright.
If you will take a moment to read the words of the hymns you sing, I know you will see, as I did, that many of them are about love. While the composer certainly had a spiritual view in mind, the meaning of the songs can be expanded to include the kind of love we encounter in dealing with people we are closest too, people we meet by chance and friends.
At the heart of “Lost in Paradise” is my belief that love is why we are here, and accepting love can redeem even the most hardened of hearts. Isabelle convinces Sebastian to accept love and frees him from his curse. I hope that they will convince you.
Legacy
RUTH RYAN LANGAN
To those still searching for family.
And for Tom, the heart and soul of ours.
One
“Miss O’Mara?” The young man’s voice was thick with Irish brogue.
“Yes.” Aidan O’Mara watched him doff his cap.
“The car is waiting. Right this way. I’ll take your luggage.” His big hand clamped around the handle of her overnight bag, and he tucked it under his arm as though it were a toy. He shouldered his way through the crowd at Dublin Airport, slowing his pace whenever she fell behind.
“Here we are.” He helped her into the backseat of a vehicle the size of a small boat before stowing her bag.
As he started the car he glanced over his shoulder. “There’s a bottle of water if you’d like. We’ve a bit of a drive ahead of us.”
“Thank you.” Aidan watched the flow of traffic, the passing scenery, with the fascination of one who had never before been to Ireland. Not only was she out of her own country for the first time, but completely out of her element.
How was it possible that just a week ago she’d buried her mother and watched her whole world unravel? Yet here she was, an ocean away from all that was familiar, being transported in a vintage Rolls by a red-haired, freckled lad in a jaunty cap who looked like a model for a travel brochure, on her way to meet a perfect stranger who hinted of secrets from her family’s past.
She was so weary, both physically and emotionally. So much had happened to her in the past few days. Too much for her to take in. The steady flow of traffic, the moving river of humanity inching along the streets of Dublin became a blur.
Drained, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes, allowing herself to drift back.
“Aidan. I’m sorry for your loss.” Father Davis handed the young woman a small wooden cross from her mother’s casket before turning away from the gravesite. He paused. “You know, of course, our church pantry can assist you with some meals until you’re back on your feet. If you need anything at all . . .”
“Thank you, Father. I’ll be fine.” She could feel the stares from those who were standing nearby, and could hear their whispered comments about her mother’s long illness and the drain on her finances.
She thanked the friends and neighbors who had come to offer their condolences, holding herself together by sheer force of will.
She experienced an odd sense of relief when she was finally alone. Dropping to her knees, she let out a long, deep sigh and looked at the headstones of her family members that surrounded her mother’s fresh grave. Thankfully her parents had bought the sites many years ago, in order to be buried near their own parents. If Aidan had been forced to buy a cemetery plot along with all the other funeral costs, she could never have afforded it.
These past months had been so hard. At first she’d been able to juggle her work at the bank and the care of her mother. As the illness progressed and things became more difficult, a neighbor suggested